


To Defy the Stars

by vyther_original (vyther15)



Series: V writes Good Intentions [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Original Work
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Bullying, Gen, Good Slytherins, Gryffindor & Slytherin Inter-House Friendships, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Hufflepuff & Slytherin Inter-House Friendships, No beta we die like mne, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Ravenclaw & Slytherin Inter-House Friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vyther15/pseuds/vyther_original
Summary: Sarathae Adaraya is ten years and eleven months old when Professor Harry Potter of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry knocks on the door of the group home she’s living in for the summer. He hands her a letter addressed to The Third Bed of the Second Bedroom of the St. Maria Home for Wayward Young Girls.He takes her through a pub into another world.When she walks into Diagon Alley, Sarathae has thirteen pounds and two pence to her name.She leaves with a wand, brand-new robes, a venomous snake, thirteen pounds, and two pence.Harry Potter’s vault hardly felt the damage.(Hey, note the fact that this is an unfinished and abandoned wip. I'll be happy to answers questions, but im not writing more)
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character, Original Character/Original Character
Series: V writes Good Intentions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978330
Kudos: 8
Collections: Good Intentions: Abandoned and Unfinished WIPs





	1. Year 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely about my OCs, with a little bit of self-indulgent, throwing-Cursed-Child-out-the-window AU, and a little bit of Hogwarts-was-actually-run-very-poorly-and-didn't-actually-make-much-sense-as-an-actual-school bit of Universe Alterations.
> 
> There will be no Drarry.
> 
> Title is adapted from a Romeo and Juliet line. (And also taken out of context, but shhh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Adaraya, Sarathae," Headmistress McGonagall reads off. The entire hall watches her walk up to the Sorting Hat.
> 
> Sarathae swallows as she sits down and McGonagall places the hat onto her head.
> 
> 'Ah, a Muggleborn. You’d do well in Gryffindor, with how much bravery you have.' The Hat chuckles at the wave of anger Sarathae gives off at the suggestion. 'Not Gryffindor, then. You have loyalty and hope for fairness. Hufflepuff would suit you well.'
> 
> 'As if,' Sarathae snorts. 'Gyn told me about Hufflepuff. I won’t get where I need to go in Hufflepuff.'
> 
> 'Of course. You want Slytherin,' the Hat realizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Year!
> 
> TW: bullying, but that's it for this chapter. The heavy stuff is later.

#  **i**

Sarathae Adaraya is ten years and eleven months old when Professor Harry Potter of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry knocks on the door of the group home she’s living in for the summer. He hands her a letter addressed to The Third Bed of the Second Bedroom of the St. Maria Home for Wayward Young Girls.

He takes her through a pub into another world.

When she walks into Diagon Alley, Sarathae has thirteen pounds and two pence to her name.

She leaves with a wand, brand-new robes, a venomous snake named Lady Macbeth, thirteen pounds, and two pence.

Harry Potter’s vault hardly felt the damage.

#  **ii**

Two weeks later, Harry Potter picks her up again, and this time, he takes her to King’s Cross Station and hands her a ticket for the Hogwarts Express, labelled Platform 9¾. She turns to ask him, but he is speaking with another man, this one tall and blonde. There’s another girl standing behind this man, with an owl perched on one shoulder.

“Hi!” the other girl says, and Sarathae is already wanting to leave, not having the energy to fake a smile. “My name is Tyra Etherit. Professor Malfoy says I’m a witch. What’s your name?”

Sarathae doesn’t answer.

Tyra frowns, which looks so wrong on her face that Sarathae considers caving to make it stop.

She doesn’t have to.

“Sarathae, this is Professor Draco Malfoy. He’ll take you and Tyra to the train,” Harry Potter says, and Sarathae adjusts her snake around her shoulders under Professor Malfoy’s stern gaze.

Malfoy leads the two of them straight through a wall. Sarathae is startled at the sheer number of people who seem to be able to fit onto such a small platform. Tyra stares around them in wonder.

“This way now, girls,” Malfoy says, and Sarathae hurries to catch up. Tyra stays behind, and Sarathae doubles back to grab her.

Tyra insists on sitting in the same car as Sarathae, and the two of them sit together the ride there. Ten minutes into the train ride, a dark-haired boy knocks on the door and asks to sit with them.

“The last car was getting too loud; I couldn’t focus on my book,” he says by way of explanation. Tyra gestures him in.

“My name’s Tyra,” she says, “and that’s Sarathae. She doesn’t talk much.”

“I’m Gyn,” he says, and sits down next to Sarathae. He opens his book and starts reading.

Sarathae knows it’s rude, but she tries to read over his shoulder. She gives up when she realizes it isn’t written in any language she knows.

“Whatcha readin’?” Tyra asks. She’s started trying to hang upside down from the luggage racks.

“It’s a history of Ireland, in Irish,” he says, folding down a corner of the page to mark his spot.

Sarathae winces. “You shouldn’t do that to your books. You’ll ruin them.”

“Do you have a bookmark?” he retorts.

“I’ve got a ten pound note you can use until we get to Hogwarts.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh, you’re a pureblood, aren’t you? It’s muggle money,” Tyra answers, having succeeded in hanging from the luggage rack. She’s holding her shirt up, having forgotten to tuck it into her pants before she started climbing. Her tan hair is so long it almost touches the floor.

“Why do you still have muggle money?” Gyn asks, setting his book to the side. “Shouldn’t you have had it exchanged?”

“Professor Potter didn’t think that was necessary, since I only had thirteen pounds to begin with,” Sarathae explains.

“Do your parents not give you an allowance?” Tyra asks, swinging down.

“My parents are in prison,” Sarathae says flatly.

Tyra flushes an embarrassed scarlet. “Sorry. Didn’t know.”

“I don’t advertise the fact.”

Tyra looks down, evidently at a loss for words. When she looks up, smile fixed back into place, she asks, “Could I braid your hair?”

Sarathae startles at the sudden change in subject. “I… I guess?”

“Here, if you don’t mind sitting on the floor.” Tyra grins. Sarathae shrugs and settles down cross-legged in front of Tyra.

Gyn snorts and re-opens his book.

“Wait, Gyn.” Tyra has started running her fingers through Sarathae’s hair. “You’re pureblood, right? Tell us about Hogwarts.”

“Well, there are four houses at Hogwarts,” Gyn begins.

#  **iii**

“Adaraya, Sarathae,” Headmistress McGonagall reads off. The entire hall watches her walk up to the Sorting Hat.

Sarathae swallows as she sits down and McGonagall places the hat onto her head.

 _'Ah, a Muggleborn. You’d do well in Gryffindor, with how much bravery you have.'_ The Hat chuckles at the wave of anger Sarathae gives off at the suggestion. ' _Not Gryffindor, then. You have loyalty and hope for fairness. Hufflepuff would suit you well.'_

 _'As if,'_ Sarathae snorts. ' _Gyn told me about Hufflepuff. I won’t get where I need to go in Hufflepuff.'_

 _'Of course. You want Slytherin,'_ the Hat realizes.

Sarathae snorts again. _'Took you long enough. Well?'_

 _'You won’t fit in well there. Those Salazar Slytherin chooses do not often like those not Pureblood,'_ the Hat warns.

_'I’m not stupid. Do you really think I’d want to go to Slytherin if I didn’t know that I could handle myself there?'_

_'Very well then.'_ The Sorting Hat opens his eyes again, looking back out over the crowd, and Sarathae does as well. “Better be Slytherin!” it shouts, and McGonagall picks up the hat.

Sarathae smirks and walks over to the silent Slytherin table. The only people clapping in the entire hall are Professors Malfoy and Potter, Tyra and Gyn, and a girl sitting in the chandelier over the Gryffindor table. The Slytherins are staring at her. Finally, one of the prefects gets the hint from his head of house and begins clapping. He starts a ripple effect and soon the entire Slytherin table is clapping.

Sarathae ignores them, sitting in the furthest empty seat from the other Slytherins.

“Adolatli, VyKaela,” McGonagall calls out after the hall has quieted again.

She works her way quickly through the line of First years. The next three go to Ravenclaw: VyKaela Adolatli, who flicks her navy blue hair over her shoulder and ignores the students who ask her to sit next to them, Gyn, whose full name is revealed to be Gonwyn Aetulata, and Ayol Bronwen, whose family name comes first and whose black hair is pulled back into an intricate braid. Sarathae only claps for Gyn.

The next girl, Maenika Diyamanti, is Slytherin. She’s pureblooded, and the whole table applauds, aside from Sarathae. Maenika sits with the general populace of the Slytherin table, and is welcomed immediately. After Maenika comes Tyra, who flashes a thumbs up to Sarathae and Gyn as she sits on the stool. She’s sorted into Gryffindor and received with loud applause from her table. Sarathae applauds politely. There are several after Tyra, but Sarathae is too busy trying to figure out how the girl in the chandelier got up there.

Then comes Polaris Anataya, who sits on the stool for nearly seven minutes. “Hatstall,” Sarathae hears the upper years whispering. When the hat finally calls out Slytherin, he jumps up and sits down directly next to Sarathae. The Slytherin table, minus Sarathae, continues to clap for him until McGonagall silences them with a pointed glance and a shout for the next name. Sarathae doesn't pay attention, instead cataloging the different students at her table.

She does tune back in to Headmistress McGonagall in time for a set of twins: Piers Makara, a fierce-looking boy sorted into Hufflepuff, and Tomis Makara, a meek-looking girl sorted into Slytherin. Tomis plants herself across from Polaris, and Piers switches tables despite a prefect trying to pull him back. After the twins comes a Gryffindor muggleborn, Luna Rae, who Polaris watches, rapt. Piers shoves his shoulder and tells him not to stare.

Next is a fidgety muggleborn who sits on the stool for close to five minutes before the Hat calls out Hufflepuff. Elandorr Samamuhurta drops his wand as he goes to his table, and Sarathae picks it up for him. He squeaks when she tries to hand it to him, but takes it. Elandorr is followed by several more students, but Sarathae isn’t paying attention any more, too busy trying to figure out if Elandorr might want to be friends. She would ask Piers to talk to him, but he seemed terrified, and Piers would probably terrify him even more.

The last first year to be sorted is muggleborn Yorqin Mariana, family name first. Her hair is a bright sunny blonde, and she’s sorted into Slytherin after two seconds of deliberation. She doesn’t get very much applause, and she plops down across from Sarathae, grinning .

#  **iv**

Sarathae’s first few days of classes go well enough. Tyra partners up with her for every class the Gryffindors and Slytherins share and talks enough for the two of them. In the Ravenclaw and Slytherin classes, Gyn claims her. Mariana teases her about inter-house solidarity, but Sarathae ignores her.

The classes with Hufflepuff are the worst to start out with. Sarathae is paired with a Hufflepuff girl named Nalaeryn Kapoyat for the first few classes. She watches Ryo force Elandorr to be his partner. Their third class with Hufflepuff, Sarathae walks up to Elandorr and offers to be his partner instead of Ryo.

“My name is Sarathae Adaraya,” she says, extending her hand to him. He stares at it like he has no idea what to do with it. “Typically,” she prompts, “you respond with your name and a handshake.”

The boy shakes his head, as if clearing away cobwebs. “Right, sorry. I’m Elandorr Samamuhurta.” He takes her hand.

“Will you be my seat partner, Elandorr?” she asks, gesturing to the empty desk at the back of the classroom.

“I… uh… sure?”

“You don’t have to, I just thought I’d save you from having to pair with Ryo. You didn’t look like you got on well.” Sarathae smiles one of her fake smiles, meant to be reassuring. She’s not good at true smiles, but she has an arsenal of false ones.

“Sarathae, are you taking my partner?” Ryo drawls, draping himself over his housemate.

“Get off of me.” Sarathae pushes his arm off of her shoulder. “You wouldn’t want your friends to think you’re getting familiar with muggleborns, now would you? You might be exiled. Then you’d have to sit with my friends at meals.”

“Yes, but you’re a Slytherin, love. You’re better than him, even if you are a mudblood.” Ryo waves a lazy hand towards Elandorr, who flinches.

Sarathae doesn’t deign to give a response to that, instead ducking out from under Ryo, slamming her foot down onto his, and snapping out a quiet hex. Nakir lets out a shriek, and Sarathae goes to sit down.

“You coming?” she asks Elandorr, pulling out the chair next to her. Elandorr nods mutely, taking his seat.

Ryo's shriek has gathered his Slytherins to his side. He’s faked falling to the floor; Sarathae knows she didn’t step on his foot that hard, and the hex she used wouldn’t send anyone to the floor like that. Maenika is loudly calling for Sarathae’s expulsion. Delsaryn is glaring daggers at Sarathae, and Nesdan is guiding Ryo to a chair.

Sarathae ignores them, instead pulling out her potions textbook and flipping to the pages written on the board.

“That is quite enough shouting, Miss Diyamanti,” Professor Malfoy says, walking over. “We will not be expelling anyone over a classroom squabble.” He shoos away the other Slytherin boys. “Now, Mr. Vatuvan, what happened.”

“Sarathae hexed me unprovoked,” he says, and Sarathae muffles a snort.

“Miss Adaraya, what happened from your perspective?” Malfoy turns to her.

“I asked Elandorr if he would like to be my seat partner for this class, because he’s been partnered with Ryo the last few classes, and the two don’t seem to get along that well. Ryo took that as if I were rifling through his trunk looking for money, and then proceeded to drape himself over me. After he insulted both Elandorr and myself with slurs, I ducked out from under him, slammed my foot onto his, and cast a minor hex on him. It will have already worn off, although the bruise on his foot is likely to linger for a few days. Most of the pain he appears to be in will be dramatics, because both the hex and the bruise would not cause someone to fall to the floor and writhe in agony.”

“Detention, Miss Adaraya, for assaulting another student. I expect you after dinner tonight in my classroom. And detention for you as well, Mr. Vatuvan, for bullying two students. You will serve yours tomorrow, directly after dinner in my classroom.” Professor Malfoy sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “And twenty points from Slytherin each for getting into a physical fight.”

#  **v**

“Tyra?” Sarathae stares at the Gryffindor girl perched on the table of the potions classroom.

“Heard you got detention with Malfoy, so I got myself detention with him too, so you wouldn’t be alone. All the upper years tell horror stories about how he doesn’t like Gryffindors or muggleborns.” Tyra glances around suspiciously before saying her next bit. “Some of them even say he was a Death Eater,” she hisses.

“But I think it’s rubbish,” she says, sitting back up prim and proper. “Because the only Gryffindor he’s been rude to was me, and that’s because I tipped over my cauldron on purpose to land myself in detention with you. Gyn was so pissed, because he was going to get the best potion in the class.”

“Tyra!” Sarathae says, appalled. “He’s a Ravenclaw! How could you!” She’s surprised at how comfortable she’s become with Tyra, able to banter with her easily and not have to worry about stinging barbs and veiled threats under every word.

Tyra raises her right hand as if taking an oath. “I solemnly swear to be strong and brave, as befits one chosen by the great Godric Gryffindor,” she recites, and breaks down laughing.

“You forgot reckless, foolhardy, and idiotic,” Sarathae adds, shoving her friend’s shoulder.

“Guilty.” Tyra grins, but it fades quickly. “I hope he talks to me tomorrow.”

“He can’t stay mad at you, Tyra. No one can.” Sarathae smiles, a real one. “You’re too cheerful to stay mad at.”

Tyra looks ready to reply, but Professor Malfoy chooses that moment to walk into the classroom.

“Miss Etherit, I believe I told you your detention was the day after tomorrow,” he says, frowning at the Gryffindor girl sitting on his table.

“Well, since I’m already here, couldn’t I just serve it now?” Tyra puts on a pouty face that Sarathae knows Malfoy can see right through. “I have a study date with Gyn the day after tomorrow.”

Malfoy buries his head in his hands. “I’m not paid enough for this,” he mutters, then, more clearly, “Alright, fine. Miss Etherit, you’re cleaning the workstations. Miss Adaraya, you’re writing eight inches on why fighting is not the best way to solve your problems, as well as a formal apology to Mr. Vatuvan for hexing him and bruising his foot.”

“All due respect, Professor, I’m not writing a formal apology to Ryo, nor will I ever utter the words ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I apologize’ to him, when he very clearly invaded my personal space, did not leave said space when asked, used prejudiced slurs against myself and a fellow classmate, bullied said classmate in previous classes, and then proceeded to lie about events in order to make himself look better in your eyes because he knew that he provoked my attack. All having me write an apology will do, professor, is teach me to not get caught next time, and that those with privilege can harass people with no repercussions.” Sarathae sits back down, having stood up at some point during her speech.

Tyra claps behind her. “You go girl. Drag him through the mud.”

“Miss Etherit, that is quite enough. If you do not wish to clean, you may come back for your scheduled detention instead.” Malfoy sits down next to Sarathae. “Miss Adaraya, I understand your frustration. However, as your head of house, I must enforce school policy, which is to have students involved in fights formally apologize to each other. If you don’t wish to write a note, you may tell him so in person. However, I believe I am correct in saying that you would prefer to write a note where you can weave in veiled threats and insults, instead of a spoken apology, where you will have to speak directly to his face, likely in front of his friends.”

“I suppose,” Sarathae gumbles, feeling like a petulant child.

“I have some fifth year essays to grade. Let me know if you need any help with your writing.” Malfoy stands up and moves over to his desk, rifling through his papers.

Sarathae huffs out a breath and gets to work.

#  **vi**

Over winter break, Gyn and Tyra go home to their families, for Yule and Hanukkah respectively. Sarathae has never really been religious, and the St. Maria Home for Wayward Young Girls is very adamant that the girls follow strict Catholic prayers and customs, so she stays at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts has decorated the Great Hall for Christmas, complete with a twenty foot tall tree covered in red and gold decorations. Sarathae’s pretty sure that Professors Potter and Longbottom had to do with that. She runs through charms that could change all that red and gold to green and silver.

Sarathae isn’t the only student staying at Hogwarts, although she is the only Slytherin. There are several upper years from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw who stay behind. She doesn’t realize that any Hufflepuffs have stayed behind until she sees Elandorr at breakfast the third day. He’s wearing muggle clothes: jeans and a t-shirt with an over-large green sweatshirt.

“That’s a Slytherin jacket if I’ve ever seen one,” Sarathae says by way of greeting as she plops down next to him.

Elandorr ignores her.

“I can go away if you want; I just figured that since we’re the only firsties here, we might as well hang out, because the Ravenclaws hate me and I sure as hell am not going to make friends with Gryffindor upper years.” Sarathae helps herself to a bowl of cereal. It looks somewhat like Lucky Charms, if the cereal part tasted like Honey-nut Cheerios and the marshmallows glittered. Whatever it is, it tastes good, so she takes another bowl.

Elandorr still doesn’t try to make her go away, so she sits and finishes the rest of her bowl of Cheerio Charms, as she decided to call them.

“What’s on your agenda for the day?” she asks, not expecting a response. When she doesn’t get one, she decides to explain her day instead. “I’m planning on turning the Christmas tree decorations to Slytherin colors.”

“I think Christmas is dumb,” Elandorr says, and Sarathae chuckles.

“Me too. That’s why I’m going to mess with the Gryffindors. Wanna help? I know you’re good at charms.”

“I guess?”

#  **vii**

Christmas morning, Sarathae wakes up on a Hufflepuff common room couch, with Elandorr on the other one, still asleep. “Elandorr,” she whispers. “Elandorr, wake up. Let’s go watch everyone react to the tree.”

Elandorr flails when he wakes up, falling off the couch with a thud. He’s still wearing his green sweatshirt and jeans, and Sarathae is in her clothes from yesterday. The two of them make an odd pair when they walk into the Great Hall.

The Gryffindors are in a tizzy about the tree, but Professor Malfoy catches their eye and gives them a thumbs up.

Sarathae gets a bowl of Cheerio Charms, and Elandorr gets a mug of hot chocolate. The one Ravenclaw staying over break hands the two of them gifts wrapped in blue and bronze paper.

“Nice job with those charms, by the way. The Gryffindors have been trying to undo them since they got down here. I’m waiting for one of them to cave and ask me,” she says, and walks out of the Great Hall. Elandorr smirks into his cocoa.

#  **viii**

Elandorr fits seamlessly into their little group after break. The four of them are often found in Gyn’s dorm, due to it being the easiest to get into. The other Ravenclaws let it slide because they claim they’re studying, which is true about fifteen percent of the time. The other 85 percent, they goof around in the way that only 11-year-olds can.

Tyra, Gryffindor that she is, found a way to fly without a broom and now she won’t stop. Gyn has fallen behind on his schoolwork to figure out what she used to make herself fly. Elandorr actually does work on his schoolwork, sitting on Gyn’s bed with Sarathae as she teaches herself Irish using Gyn’s books.

#  **ix**

That summer, Sarathae goes to the Sirius Black Home for Wizarding Youth, located at #12 Grimmauld Place and run by Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world and professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Elandorr goes home to his mother in London. Tyra’s family picked her up on platform 9¾ and promptly turned around and got onto a muggle train to the beach. Tyra made a face behind their backs at Sarathae. Gyn’s mother collected him as soon as he got off the train and smothered him in hugs and kisses.

Sarathae smiles as she watches her friends leave, and then joins the group of students being corralled by Professor Potter. He gathers them up and leads them to a fireplace.

“Remember to enunciate very clearly,” he declares loudly, and Sarathae rolls her eyes. She makes it to #12 Grimmauld Place unscathed, with her snake wrapped tightly around her shoulders. When she arrives, a cheerful blonde woman with strange glasses hands her a map and tells her where her room is. She finds it with no trouble, realizes that she has her own room, and promptly locks the door and begins to write a letter to Elandorr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Year Two is in the works, but I have "enrichment activities" to do for school since we're out for COVID-19. Luckily, they don't take too long, and one of the English options is quite literally to write fanfiction. Guess whose already finished that one.
> 
> Hopefully it'll be up by Friday, but no promises.


	2. Year 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarathae Adaraya is eleven years and eleven months old when she goes to Platform 9¾ to board the Hogwarts Express for her second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry Potter sends each of the students at #12 Grimmauld Place through the floo.
> 
> Sarathae sits in the same compartment as last year. As she waits for her friends to show up, she reads through the copy of Hamlet she bought for two pounds at a resale shop. By the time Tyra and Gyn arrive, dragging their trunks behind them, it’s five minutes until the train is supposed to pull out of the station. Lady Macbeth hisses at them.
> 
> “Why did they let you get a snake anyway?” Tyra asks, shoving her trunk into the luggage rack.
> 
> “Because Harry Potter bought it for me, and the school can’t say no to the saviour of the wizarding world,” Sarathae replies, not looking up from Hamlet. It’s her second favorite play, after the Scottish one. The ladies at the St. Maria Home for Wayward Young Girls had disapproved of someone so young reading any Shakespeare, so she read it by flashlight under the thin covers of her squeaky bed.
> 
> There’s a thud outside of the car, and a muffled shout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: minor bullying in part one and discussion of periods in part three
> 
> The heavy stuff is still coming, but they're still only twelve right now, and I don't like doing mean stuff to twelve year olds.
> 
> And yes, I know, I was a little bit late in posting, not that anyone is actually following this, but I got sucked into the void of youtube videos, and I watched a whole ton of stuff on historical fashion and painting conservation.

#  **i**

Sarathae Adaraya is eleven years and eleven months old when she goes to Platform 9¾ to board the Hogwarts Express for her second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry Potter sends each of the students at #12 Grimmauld Place through the floo.

Sarathae sits in the same compartment as last year. As she waits for her friends to show up, she reads through the copy of Hamlet she bought for two pounds at a resale shop. By the time Tyra and Gyn arrive, dragging their trunks behind them, it’s five minutes until the train is supposed to pull out of the station. Lady Macbeth hisses at them.

“Why did they let you get a snake anyway?” Tyra asks, shoving her trunk into the luggage rack.

“Because Harry Potter bought it for me, and the school can’t say no to the saviour of the wizarding world,” Sarathae replies, not looking up from Hamlet. It’s her second favorite play, after the Scottish one. The ladies at the St. Maria Home for Wayward Young Girls had disapproved of someone so young reading any Shakespeare, so she read it by flashlight under the thin covers of her squeaky bed.

There’s a thud outside of the car, and a muffled shout.

Sarathae shuts her book to go see if Elandorr has dropped his trunk in the hall.

She opens the door to Elandorr being shoved against the wall by a Slytherin third year.

“Get off of him, Nakir,” Sarathae says, her tone deadly cool. Lady Macbeth slides down her body to the floor, and she points her wand at Nakir.

“How about you go back to your compartment and I finish my conversation with my Hufflepuff,” Nakir says, pointing his wand back at Sarathae.

“He’s not yours, asshole,” Tyra says, pointing her wand over Sarathae’s shoulder. She’s grown like a weed over the summer, and she stands nearly a head taller than Sarathae.

Nakir snarls at her. “Stay out of this, little mudblood.”

“Lady Macbeth is rather venomous,” Sarathae says, voice still cold. “It would be a pity if you were to be bitten.” She cocks her head, watching her snake get closer to Nakir’s foot.

He looks down and yelps, dancing backwards. Lady Macbeth hisses at his receding figure.

Elandorr crouches down and carefully picks up Lady Macbeth. She settles onto his shoulders as Gyn and Tyra collect his trunk.

“He’s got some nerve,” Tyra mutters, glaring towards the direction Nakir ran.

“Let it alone, Tyra,” Elandorr says, slumping into the seat by the window. Lady Macbeth moves down to his lap.

“How was your summer, Sarathae?” Gyn asks after Elandorr's trunk is stowed away in the luggage rack, in an attempt to alleviate the tension in the car.

Tyra snorts from where she's dangling in the luggage rack. “Real subtle, buddy. Real subtle.” 

Sarathae ignores him in favor of pulling her book back out and sitting next to Elandorr.

#  **ii**

Sarathae continues reading through the sorting ceremony, only pausing when Polaris applauds wildly half-way through. She looks up to see a boy who looks nearly identical to his older brother walking to the Hufflepuff table. She tunes out until Tomis and Piers applaud for a dark haired boy walking to the Ravenclaw table. She’s nearing the end of the third act when Mariana wolf-whistles for a blonde boy being sorted into Hufflepuff. Luckily, Mariana's brother is the last of the new first-years. Headmistress McGonagall delivers a welcoming speech about inter-house solidarity and brotherhood. Sarathae reads through that as well.

“Sarathae, the food’s appeared. You’ve gotta eat,” Mariana reminds her.

“No I don’t,” she says, turning the page. Lady Macbeth hisses from under her robes.

Mariana sighs. “And you’re not supposed to bring your snake to the Great Hall, remember?”

“Oops.”

“Sarathae, either eat or I’ll tell Malfoy you’ve been bringing Lady Macbeth to meals.” Annoyance and anger are starting to seep into Mariana's voice.

“Sod off, Mariana. I’ll eat.” Sarathae slams Hamlet down and grabs a bowl of mashed potatoes. She stirs in corn, butter, and salt.

“Oh, that’s disgusting,” Polaris gags, looking over at her.

“It’s literally butter?” Mariana says, incredulous, and the two get lost in a discussion about the pros and cons of doctoring up mashed potatoes. Sarathae slips out of the Great Hall while they’re distracted, leaving her mashed potatoes.

She walks towards the back stairs down to the dungeons, helping Lady Macbeth to her shoulders as she walks. The Bloody Baron sketches a short bow to her, and several other ghosts say hello.

“Sarathae?”

She turns to the ghost hovering next to her. “Yes, Etar?”

The Gryffindor veela tosses her white hair back. “That third year boy, Niko? Nikaise?” She shakes her head. “Well, whatever his name is, he’s bad news for your Hufflepuff boy.”

Sarathae has learned that you must always thank ghosts for information given, even if it is information you already know, before you ask for more. “Thank you, Etar. I wonder what he wants with him.” She’s also learned that, with Etar, you can’t outright ask for anything, or you won’t receive it. The former Gryffindor doesn't like it when people tell her what to do. She had a few rather bad encounters with the Imperious Curse in the Second War with Voldemort.

“I’m not sure,” Etar says, and vanishes. Likely to find out.

Sarathae readjusts Lady Macbeth and slips through a secret passage into the Slytherin dorm. It lets out directly next to the boys bathroom and doesn’t require a password, because no one knows it exists. Sarathae and Elandorr found it exploring during Christmas last year.

The common room is blissfully empty, with everyone still at the Welcoming Feast. Sarathae lets Lady Macbeth down to the floor and flops onto the furthest couch from the fireplace. She reopens her book and reads until the upper years start streaming in.

#  **iii**

Sarathae wakes up her first night back at Hogwarts with searing pain in her abdomen and a strange craving for Cheerio Charms. She stumbles into the common room and collapses on the couch next to the fireplace.

“Teeley?” she calls, and the Slytherin House Elf pops into existence next to her.

“Yes Miss Sarathae?” Teeley has an emerald green tea towel wrapped around her like a tunic, and a frying pan on her head like the story of Johnny Appleseed Sarathae had read in a collection of American Tall Tales.

“Do you think you could bring me a bowl of the cereal they have at breakfast, with the loops and the glittering marshmallows?” The edges of Sarathae's voice are tinged with pain, and she hates it.

“Of course, Miss Sarathae. I can also bring you some chocolate, if you like? Most girls want chocolate during times like these."

Sarathae opens her mouth to answer, but a jolt of pain goes through her lower abdomen, and she doubles over, trying not to cry.

“And some painkillers,” Teeley decides, and pops out of existence again.

\--

Sarathae’s first week back at school drags on for what seems like forever. She learns that the blood in her underwear is normal, and learns a spell to clean it up from Madame Pomfrey. The Slytherins have three classes with the Hufflepuffs, and Ryo quickly remembers why he didn’t bully them when Sarathae snaps out several hexes in a fit of period-induced rage.

Tyra understands immediately, and keeps Gyn from annoying her too much. Elandorr seems to know instinctively when to give her space and when to force her out of her shell. Sarathae figures it’s a Hufflepuff thing.

#  **iv**

“How come you weren’t sorted into Gryffindor?” Tyra asks, leaning over the back of her chair in the library.

“I was offered. I refused,” Sarathae says flatly, shutting her Potions book. Now that Tyra has become bored with her work, no one will be able to finish their own.

“I mean, not like you don’t make a great Slytherin, it’s just,” Tyra trails off, clearly unsure of how to phrase this.

Gyn continues for her, “You seem to like being a knight in shining armour for the firsties. Plus, you don’t make friends with the Slytherins, which would be the most strategic thing to do.”

“I protect the first years because I was a first year, and I do make friends with the Slytherins. I just don’t make friends with the assholes. And I’m closer to you guys, because (A) it’s strategic for me to have friends in every house, and (B) you guys don’t care about Slytherin politics or the fact that Mariana’s younger brother doesn’t talk and neither does Polaris’s brother or the idea of blood purity.”

“Geesh, sorry. Forget I ever said anything,” Tyra says.

“Imagine that,” Gyn snorts. “A Gryffindor pissing off a Slytherin.”

“Fuck off, Gyn,” Tyra says, with a reverence for the word only a twelve-year-old without an adult nearby to censor her can have for it.

“Ah ah.” Gyn wags her finger in Tyra’s face. “Sarathae doesn’t like that kind of language.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you guys say,” Sarathae snorts. “And I’m going to go find Elandorr because he was supposed to be here ten minutes ago and he know the castle almost better than I do.”

“I want to go flying. I made it onto--”

“The Gryffindor team. We know, Tyra. We’re aware that you’re the chaser. We’re aware that Harry Potter is the coach. You’ve only told us eighty million times.” Gyn bangs his head on the table. “I guess our study session has failed.”

“Sorry.” Sarathae doesn’t sound sorry at all, and Gyn bangs his head on the table again. “If I find Elandorr, we can come back and study more if you want?”

Tyra pats Gyn on the shoulder and practically prances out of the library with her unfinished potions essay.

“You’ve already finished your essay, anyway,” Sarathae says before she leave the library as well. Gyn stays where he is, head in his potions books.

#  **v**

“Who the hell are you?” Sarathae asks, staring at the girl perched on the top of her bedpost.

The girl giggles. “You know everyone in this castle except for me. I should consider that a compliment.” She grins, and jumps down to the floor. “My name’s Kythaela.”

“And how the hell did you get into my dorm, Kythaela? I know for a fact that you aren’t a Slytherin.” Sarathae has raised her wand to point it at the girl.

“You’re not the only one who knows about the passage by the boy’s bathroom.”

Sarathae keeps her wand pointed straight at Kythaela’s chest.

“You can put that down. It’s not going to do anything to me.”

“What year are you?” Sarathae asks, lowering her wand.

Kythaela shrugs.

“How do you not know what year you’re in?”

She shrugs again.

“Okay, why were you in my bed?”

“Because Vyther wanted me to meet you.”

“Why would Vyther want us to meet?” Sarathae is startles by the mention of the younger Slytherin ghost. Vyther died when she was seventeen, during the Battle of Hogwarts. She took down twelve Death Eaters but was taken down by the thirteenth: her own brother.

“Because she likes you, and she thinks we could be friends,” Kythaela says, sitting down on Sarathae’s bed.

“Get off my bed,” Sarathae says reflexively, and Kythaela snorts.

“As you wish, your highness,” she mocks, and then disappears.

Sarathae is not very proud of the startled gasp that comes out of her. When she checks the bed and the rest of the dorm, there’s no trace of Kythaela anywhere.

#  **vi**

It’s Christmas Break by the time Sarathae sees Kythaela again. This time, Kythaela drops down from the chandelier in the dining room, landing perfectly in the chair next to Sarathae. Elandorr, sitting across from her, lets out an undignified shriek, his spoon clattering into his bowl.

Kythaela giggles. “You’re jumpy,” she says to him, and Sarathae tries to smack her.

“Who the hell are you?” Elandorr is crossing himself, like a good Catholic boy.

“My name’s Kythaela.” She holds her hand out to shake.

“What’s your house?” Elandorr looks pointedly at her lack of a tie.

She shrugs. “Dunno.”

“How do you not know your Hogwarts house?” Sarathae gapes at the other girl.

“I forgot.”

“How did you forget which house you’re in?” Elandorr’s voice is incredulous.

“Well, I don’t have a dorm. And I can get into all four of the houses easy, so it really doesn’t matter.”

“What about classes?” Sarathae asks.

Kythaela smirks. “I just kinda show up.”

Elandorr stares at Kythaela, his bowl of oatmeal forgotten. “How?”

“Well, the teachers all know me. And they can’t take off house points, because no one knows my actual house.”

“Not even McGonagall?”

“She probably knows, but she hasn’t told anyone.”

Elandorr rubs his temples. “So you don’t have a house, or a year. How old even are you?”

“I stopped keeping track after the first few centuries.” Kythaela grins again, and disappears.

Sarathae can’t even say she’s surprised.

#  **vii**

Sarathae’s second year seems to fly by, and soon everyone is back on the Hogwarts Express, heading back to King’s Cross Station to be picked up by family or guardians.

“Are you still reading Shakespeare?” Tyra asks. She’s hanging upside-down from the luggage rack, like she has every other time she’s been on the train.

“I’m re-reading,” Sarathae sniffs, flipping the page.

“How very Ravenclaw of you.” Tyra starts to braid her own hair, still hanging from the luggage rack.

“I’m not a Ravenclaw,” Sarathae says, still not fully paying attention to her friend.

“You read like one.”

“Calling me a Ravenclaw is like calling you a Hufflepuff, Tyra.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a Hufflepuff,” Tyra says, just to be difficult. Sarathae knows that because she’s had to listen to Tyra’s rants about how upset she was when people kept calling her a Hufflepuff.

“Yes you would,” Sarathae replies mildly, still not looking up from her book. Lady Macbeth hisses from her shoulder.

Tyra huffs, swinging down from the luggage rack. “Where’re Elan and Gyn?”

“I don’t know,” Sarathae says. “And don’t call him Elan; he doesn’t like it.”

“You call him Elan,” Tyra protests.

“He likes me better than you,” Sarathae replies.

“I’m much more likeable than you!”

“Thanks, Tyra.” Sarathae doesn’t bother trying to mask the sarcasm. “You’re so kind. I’m so glad you’re my friend.”

Tyra folds her arms across her chest. “You’re not playing fair.”

“You’re the one that called me unlikeable.”

“I--” Tyra cuts off. “Sorry.”

“Thank you, Tyra.” Sarathae shuts her book and sets it to the side. “Let’s go find Elandorr and Gyn.” ****

#  **viii**

Sarathae’s bedroom at #12 Grimmauld Place looks the same. The collection of antique plays has grown. Sarathae is pleased to note six new copies of Macbeth and three new copies of Hamlet.

She lets Lady Macbeth down to the floor, and the snake disappears to the land of Under-the-bed. Sarathae pushes her trunk to the far corner, intending to empty it out after she finishes reading the book on child welfare laws in magical Britain. She had ‘borrowed’ from the school library.

She fails.

She reads through dinner and falls asleep at her desk, face pressed into the open library book.

Most of her summer goes like that, but Sarathae doesn’t mind. She falls asleep drafting new laws for child welfare or comparing her versions of Shakespeare or teaching herself Arabic so that she can read the Quran in its original language despite not being Muslim.

She also spends three afternoons a week at a dojo in downtown London learning martial arts, and the other four afternoons in private lessons with her professors to get ahead for the next year.

Elandorr calls her crazy, but Tyra asks how to get in touch with the dojo so she can join, and Gyn asks if her can join her during the tutoring sessions. Sarathae saves every letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kythaela is really fun to write. I tried to introduce her in the first chapter, but it really just didn't work at all. Any guesses as to what she is?
> 
> Year three has absolutely nothing written yet, so expect a longer delay. I do have parts of Year Four written, though, which is very typical of me.


	3. UNFINISHED CHAPTERS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what it says on the chapter title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh yeah, i'm probably never gonna get around to finishing this, so i'm gonna drop the last things i wrote into the void. this chapter has a little over half of what would have been chapter three, the first to parts of chapter four, and a scene and a half from after they graduate.
> 
> cw: missing persons, implied kidnapping, implied child abuse, sexual assault (noncon kissing), victim blaming, torture, leaving someone to die, panic attack, kidnapping, implied rape

**Chapter 3 ( _unfinished; cw for missing persons, implied kidnapping, implied child abuse)_**

**i**

Sarathae’s third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry begins rather like the previous two: she goes to Diagon Alley to get her new books, paid for by the Harry Potter Schooling Fund; she Floos to King’s Cross Station with the rest of the students at the Sirius Black Home for At-Risk Young Witches and Wizards; and she stows her trunk in the luggage rack above the third seat of the fifth carriage of the Hogwarts Express. Lady Macbeth lays draped across her shoulders the whole time. 

Elandorr, Gyn, and Tyra arrive a few minutes later, the latter two together, and put their trunks away. Tyra, predictably, hangs upside-down from the luggage rack until she gets bored. 

“Sarathae, can I braid your hair?” Tyra swings down from the rack.

Sarathae doesn’t answer, but moves down to the floor with her book. Tyra claps her hands together in glee and gets to work.

Lady Macbeth removes herself from Sarathae’s shoulders to slither onto Elandorr’s lap. Elandorr is absently stroking her scales as he sketches.

The four of them, five, if you count Lady Macbeth, sit in companionable silence until Gyn drops his book to his lap. “Professor Malfoy’s kid is starting this year,” he says, and the silence is instantly broken.

“Malfoy has a kid?” from Tyra.

“Doesn’t that mean Potter’s second kid is coming?” from Elandorr.

Sarathae snickers. “Malfoy named his kid Scorpius.”

“Who the hell names their kid Scorpion?” Tyra sounds so appalled it makes Sarathae laugh harder.

“Scorpi _ us _ , Tyr. Scorpi _ us, _ ” Gyn corrects, picking up his book from the floor.

“What house do you think he’ll be in?” Elandorr asks, tucking his sketchbook away.

“Scorpius? He’ll be a Slytherin, most likely. No matter what Malfoy says about inter-house unity, there’s no way his kid’ll be anything but a Slytherin. That much tradition can’t be broken in a generation,” Sarathae says, making grabby hands for her snake. 

“Why can’t tradition be broken in a generation?” Tyra tugs her fingers through Sarathae’s hair a little harder than necessary, and Sarathae hisses.

“Don’t pull so hard.” She reaches up to swat at Tyra’s hands, but Elandorr drops Lady Macbeth in her lap before she can. 

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he says before slipping out into the hallway.

**ii**

The sorting feast this year is more interesting than the last. With Lady Macbeth draped over her shoulders, she sits in her usual corner of the table. Mariana, and Tomis chatter away next to her; Piers is sitting at the Hufflepuff table for the first time that Sarathae can remember. She makes a note to ask if everything’s okay between the twins later. 

Polaris is just staring at the table, devoid of his usual cheer. Sarathae scans the Hufflepuff table for his brother. Who isn’t there.

That’s probably it. She won’t push.

She scratches a quick note in the muggle notebook and passes it to him.  _ If you need someone to talk to, I’m good at listening,  _ it reads.

“Thanks, Sarathae,” Polaris murmurs. He looks ready to say something else, but he’s cut off by the doors to the great hall opening and the first years being marched in by Professor Malfoy.

Headmistress McGonagall stands up and the entire hall goes silent. Professor Malfoy slips into his seat at the end of the teacher’s table. 

Sarathae tunes out McGonagall’s speech and the Sorting Hat’s song: both of them are about inter-house unity and the founders of Hogwarts, like the last two years, so Sarathae doesn’t think she misses too much. Instead, she scans the line of firsties to see if she can find Remus Potter. He’s likely the only firstie she’ll know, but she makes a game of figuring out if she can guess the others. She finds a platinum blonde boy in the middle of the line who looks like a carbon copy of her head of house: Scorpius Malfoy, then. 

Further down the line is Remus Potter; she recognizes him from the dinners Professor Potter insisted the entirety of the Sirius Black Home children attend. He always sat next to his little sister and picked at his food, leaving as soon as he was allowed. Sarathae couldn’t blame him for that. She didn’t like them either.

At the end of the line is a girl who looks identical to Mariana. Sarathae studies her for a second, then looks over at her roommate.

“I thought you said Claramae wasn’t magical,” she accuses Mari, who doesn’t look fazed in the least.

“She isn’t.”

“Then what’s she doing in line with the first years?”

“Seeing how far she can get without getting kicked out.”

“How’d she get past Ollivander’s?” Polaris asks. His voice is devoid his usual emotion, but he’s got a fake smile on his face, and Sarathae hopes that he’ll be okay.

“Kieran faked her wand choosing her so she’d get one.” Mariana is watching her sister at the back of the line. Claramae waves cheerily at her sister.

“Okay, but you’re just going to let her?”

“Why not? She’s my sister. She deserves to be here as much as the rest of us. Besides, if anyone can get away with this, it’s Claramae.” Mariana shrugs. “Now shut up. I wanna know what all the firsties’ names are.”

Their table hushes just in time for McGonagall to wrap up her speech and call out the first name on the list. Ayol Indra is a dark haired boy who fidgets on the stool for nearly ten minutes before the Hat calls out Ravenclaw.

“That’s not a good sign,” Tomis mutters as the next first year gets on the stool. 

The hat is barely on Peregrine Bakuma’s head before it calls out Gryffindor, and Mariana snorts. “What was that, Tomis?”

After the first Gryffindor, his twin, Sage, is sorted into Gryffindor within thirty seconds of the Hat being on her head.

The next first year called up is a short-haired girl who is sorted into Slytherin after two minutes. Faylen Dasaya sits down in the middle of the table, next to several seventh years, and Sarathae wonders if the Hat offered her Gryffindor.

“Okay, that’s creepy,” Mariana says, watching the next one climb onto the stool. Sarathae looks up at Jokam Diyamanti.

“Yeah, that’s freaky,” she agrees, watching the Hat hum and haw over a boy who looks identical to Mariana’s younger brother.

“Isn’t that Maenika’s brother?” Polaris asks. 

“Yeah.” Mariana is looking between her brother and the boy on the stool. “So why does he look like a carbon copy of my brother?”

“I dunno,” Tomis says. “Polyjuice?”

“He’s eleven, Tomis. How the hell would he know how to brew polyjuice?”

Sarathae tunes them out in time for the Sorting Hat to put Jokam in Hufflepuff. Sarathae thinks he looks far too terrified at the prospect of being put in Hufflepuff, but then she looks over at Maenika and understands. Maenika looks absolutely furious.

Sarathae watches Rose Granger-Weasley get sorted into Gryffindor, to raucous applause, and then McGonagall calls out Taenya Lokada and the entire Slytherin table quiets down, watching Nakir’s younger sister sit down on the stool. The Hat barely touches her head before it calls out Gryffindor, and the entirety of the table sits in stunned silence. Taenya had been expected to be placed into Slytherin; her entire family had been. 

The Slytherin table is shocked out of its stunned silence when Nakir whistles for his sister. They clap politely, but stop as Scorpius Malfoy walks up to the stool. 

The Hat puts Scorpius into Slytherin after four and a half minutes, and the entire table applauds wildly. Sarathae is surprised they don’t give him a standing ovation. Professor Malfoy is clapping louder than the rest of them combined. Sarathae claps politely and puts her hands down, watching the next first year step up to the stool. This one sits on the stool for nearly a minute before the hat calls out Ravenclaw.

Then Remus Potter steps up to the stool. Sarathae expects him to be sorted into Gryffindor right away, like his brother had been when they were first years. Instead, he sits under the Sorting Hat for six minutes before the Hat calls out Slytherin. Remus’s eyes fly open in shock, and the whole hall looks on, stunned. Scorpius waves excitedly from his spot at the table, and Professor Potter starts clapping loudly. Then Professor Malfoy starts clapping, and the Slytherins get the hint and applaud as well.

After Remus, the rest of the firsties go by in a rush until Claramae is the only one left. She mounts the steps to the Sorting Hat. She sits in the stool, and Sarathae can hear Mariana praying quietly for her sister to make it past the Hat.

The Sorting Hat is on her head for barely ten seconds before it calls out Gryffindor and Mariana lets out a sigh of relief. Sarathae claps politely while Mari and Tomis applaud wildly, along with the entirety of the Gryffindor table.

**iii**

Sarathae rereads the copy of Hamlet she brought with her until the cover nearly falls off and she can recite all of the soliloquies and monologues by heart. She proves this to Gyn by performing one of Hamlet’s soliloquies, from the last scene of act two from memory.

“You should be able to get extra credit for that,” Trya says from the tree she’s climbed into.

Elandorr hums in agreement. Gyn is still too busy staring at her in shock to say anything.

“They don’t appreciate muggle literature,” Sarathae sighs, flopping down. “I mean, at least we don’t have to read Romeo and Juliet in high school. The only redeeming quality about Romeo and Juliet is how gay Benvolio and Mercutio are for each other.”

“What the hell’s high school?” Gyn asks, having gotten over himself.

“Muggle equivalent of 4th through 7th year,” Elandorr says. Lady Macbeth is curled in his lap, and Elandorr’s sketchbook is settled precariously over her.

“What’s first through third year?” Gyn asks.

“Middle school,” Tyra says, from an even higher branch than before.

Gyn looks utterly baffled by this, and Sarathae just laughs.

“Y’know, it really is no surprise that the mudblood wouldn’t be friends with people in her own house,” someone drawls. 

“It’s really no surprise that the elitist wouldn’t see the obvious benefits of having friends in other houses,” Sarathae returns as Nakir saunters up to them. “The different perspectives they offer, paired with the obviously different goals and takes on magic, it really is a wonder the professors haven’t encouraged inter-house unity more strongly.”

Nakir scowls at her. “I’m here to speak with Gonwyn about our grandmother.”

“The one that tried to use an Unforgivable on me? Because I don’t care, Nakir.” Gyn huffs out a laugh, strange and bitter. Sarathae doesn’t think she’s ever heard a sound like that come out of her friend’s mouth before.

“For the last time, Gonwyn. Grandmother never used unforgivables.”

“Just like you never did?” Gyn slams his book closed, and Tyra drops down from the tree to set a hand on his shoulder.

“I think you should leave now,” Elandorr says, in a rare burst of confidence. 

“Hush, little mudblood. Your betters are--” Nakir is cut off by a hex to the face.

“Goodbye!” Tyra sing-songs, and adds a small compulsion charm to send him walking away.

**iv**

Sarathae spends several nights in third year sitting up in the Slytherin common room with muggle notebooks and wizarding books floating around her. Whenever one of the upper years tries to send her to bed, she ignores them in favor of scribbling incomprehensible notes in the closest notebook.

One of the prefects swears Sarathae is floating with her notebooks, but another says that there’s no way a third year mastered a levitation charm on herself.

“I don’t think she’s doing it on purpose,” Larissa Jones, the first prefect, says, watching Sarathae out of the corner of her eye. “She’s so focused on what she’s doing that I think she’s unconsciously floating.”

“Bullshit,” Cameron Jenkins, the second prefect says. “That’s not how it works.”

“It could be accidental magic,” Larissa says stubbornly.

Cameron scoffs. “Sarathae Adaraya, using accidental magic? What are you smoking?”

“Happens to the best of us.” Larissa shrugs. “I’m not telling her to stop for lights out.” She pats her fellow prefect’s shoulder before walking to her dorm. 

Cameron sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s a Friday. She won’t have classes tomorrow, he reasons, and walks to his own dorm without saying anything to Sarathae.

When he walks out of his dorm the next morning, rubbing blearily at his eyes, he finds half the Slytherin house staring at the ceiling. He sighs again, watching Saratahe scribble in her notebooks more, floating happily next to the chandeliers.

He isn’t surprised when Larissa steps out of her room, takes one look at Sarathae, and promptly turns back into her room without a word. He’s rather inclined to do the same.

He begins drafting what he’ll say to Professor Malfoy about this.  _ Sorry Sarathae broke her legs, Professor. She was floating up in the ceiling working on Merlin knows what and just fell. _

Yeah, that’ll go over real well. Cameron shakes his head, and begins to draft his eulogy instead, because he’s about to do something that would give even the most reckless Gryffindor pause.

“Sarathae!” he calls, wincing when the younger girl legitimately hisses at him.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” she snarls, and goes back to her books.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” He has Protego on his lips as soon as he finishes speaking, because he knows Sarathae knows far too many dueling spells for someone only in her third year. As expected, a purple jet of light streaks down from her spot by the chandelier. The other students scatter, and he snaps out his protego.

And that’s another thing: Cameron doesn’t think third years should be so good at non-verbal spells, either. Especially not ones that can shatter his Protego so easily. Yeah, he’s not the best at Protego, but he’s not  _ bad _ , either. And he’s in sixth year, for Merlin’s sake. A third year spell shouldn’t be enough to shatter his shielding charm in the first place.

He adds it to his list of things that don’t add up about Sarathae Adaraya.

Other items on Cameron Jenkins’ List of Things That Don’t Add Up About Sarathae Adaraya include

  * How does she keep getting muggle notebooks? Like, seriously, what the hell? They don’t sell the damn things anywhere near Hogwarts!
  * She never goes home for Christmas, and he definitely heard the story of the Great Christmas Tree Caper from her first year. That charm is incredibly complicated, and even the teachers couldn’t undo it for three days.
  * There’s a rumour she grew up in a Catholic girls home
  * And she apparently knows several languages, including _Arabic_ , which, wtf? How? She grew up in a Catholic girls home!
  * She exclusively reads Shakespeare and law books. Cameron doesn’t think either of those are appropriate reading material for a 13 year old. He doesn’t say anything, though.
  * He could keep going, but Sarathae is actually coming back down from the ceiling.



“What the hell were you doing all night!” Mariana Yorqin shouts, and Cameron winces. 

And berates himself. He should have known to get one of her roommates. She would have listened to them.

“Working,” Sarathae mutters petulantly. The rest of the students in the common room are very obviously ‘not’ listening. 

“Sleep, Sarathae! You need to sleep!” Mariana snags one of the notebooks out from the vortex around her friend. “Azkaban reformations can wait for you to rest.”

Sarathae sighs. “Fine, Mari. I’ll take a nap.”

Cameron isn’t even surprised when Sarathae plops onto the floor and promptly curls into a ball. He’s pretty sure she’s asleep before the rest of her notebooks even hit the ground. Mariana lets out a long-suffering sigh, collects the notebooks into a neat little pile, and drags a blanket over her friend.

Cameron decides to just go back to bed. One of the older prefects can deal with her later.

**v**

Christmas Break is much more fun Sarathae’s third year than it had been the past two before. Polaris is staying. Sarathae manages to rope Polaris into helping her set charm the Christmas tree decorations to Hufflepuff colors without Elandorr knowing.

Jokam Diyamanti also stays back over break, and Sarathae realizes something.

_ this is where i ran out of steam for chapter 3. there's a whole conspiracy thing with Jokam and Polaris and Elandorr. I just......lost interest. _

_ ~~~ _

**Chapter 4 ( _well, part of it. that isn't a lot; cw for sexual assault and victim blaming)_**

**i**

Sarathae rereads Hamlet four times in the first three days of her fourth year at Hogwarts. 

When she approaches Professor Malfoy about putting on a school play, he says he’ll ask Headmistress McGonagall. Sarathae decides McGonagall is taking too long to decide and recruits her friends, dormmates, and some impressionable younger years. She convinces Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, to be the dead father. She decides to be Hamlet. Tyra plays the queen; Gyn plays King Claudius. Elandorr plays Horatio. Mariana’s younger sister, second year Claramae Yorqin, plays Ophelia.

Sarathae makes Polaris co-director after he crashes a rehearsal and gives her so much feedback she doesn’t know what to do with it all. 

Gyn insists that everyone keep their grades up so that rehearsals don’t get disrupted by detentions.

Tyra insists on getting fencing lessons from N. H. Nick, despite the fact that her character never uses a sword.

Polaris insists they watch every possible version of Hamlet so that they can make their portrayals as accurate as possible.

Sarathae just insists that they be able to perform at the Christmas feast that happens the night before everyone leaves for break.

The final dress rehearsal, Professor Malfoy has finally caught on, but instead of breaking it up, he agrees to inform the teachers that a production of Hamlet would be happening on the dais, whether they liked it or not, and the teacher’s table would be moved before the show.

**ii**

“Sarathae?” Elandorr asks, stopping her as she transfigures her hair back to shoulder length.

“Yeah?” She flicks her wand at her hair, using the charm Gyn looked up.

“I… you remember the upper year who was harassing me earlier this year?” He runs a hand through his dark curls, a blush rising on his cheeks. 

“He been bothering you again?” Sarathae pulls her now-normal length hair into a messy braid and then twists the braid into a bun on the back of her head, pinning it into place with a knife prop sitting on the dressing room table.

“He… well, he never… actually… stopped.” Elandorr wrings his hands, looking down.

Sarathae sets down the make-up wipe and stands up. She’s almost six inches shorter than Elandorr and not liable to shorten the gap, but she puts her hands on his shoulders and forces him to look her in the eyes. “I understand wanting to fight it all alone, Elan. I do. But you don’t have to. And I’ll help you get through it. I can hex him for you, or I can stand behind you while you hex him.”

“Sara, I wasn’t going to say anything, because I can handle it.” Elandorr shakes off her hands. “It’s just, he… he kissed me today after lunch,” he says in a rush of words. 

It takes Sarathae a moment to decode what he’s said, but when she does, she starts thinking of ways to dismember Nakir without getting caught. “It wasn’t your fault,” she says, careful to keep the anger out of her voice. The girl at St. Maria’s who’d been assaulted by a priest when she was nine had always been terrified when someone showed anger after she told them, even if the anger was directed at the priest. 

Sarathae had helped the girl set up a trap for the priest, and when he tripped down the stairs after visiting the girls at St. Maria’s and broke his hip, they were the only ones not surprised. Sarathae refused to pray for him, but the other girl was shamed into doing so. She was adopted the second year Sarathae was there. Harry Potter had shown up the next day with Sarathae’s Hogwarts letter.

“If I hadn’t let it--”

“Don’t go there, Elandorr. It wasn’t your fault, and it never will be. It was his fault. It will always be his fault. He assaulted you, Elan. He chose to do that, and he didn’t give you a choice.”

“I know, Sara. God, I know. It’s just… I just… I don’t… I don’t want to be that person, the boy who cried wolf. Because it isn’t that bad, really. It was just a ki--”

“Elan, shut the hell up. It’s never just a kiss. There was more before the kiss, and there’ll be more after the kiss if you don’t stop trying to rationalize why he picked you.

“He picked you because he’s a predator, and he thought you were an easy target.”

_(I never finished this chapter either. but, uh, yeah. that's a thing that happens to Elandorr. Sorry. It gets better for him, but it gets worse first.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, yeah. if you have questions, feel free to ask. next chapter is the complete notes document for this fic, which has the rest of the plot details and some other various things if you're super confused.


	4. ADDITIONAL SCENES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any content warnings from previous chapters apply to this chapter. it is also heavily implied that Sarathae murders a rapist. the part with those two specific cws is easily skippable, as it is the last portion, and there is a large warning beforehand.
> 
> these aren't really attached to a specific chapter, and don't really go together, either.

_**elandorr, sarathae, and nakir beginning of 6th year** _

“So. How was break?”

“Go away, Sarathae.”

“You’re not allowed to hide, Elan. You don’t let me hide; I won’t let you hide. Fair’s fair.”

“Sarathae, I really need you to go. Please. I’ll explain everything after breakfast.”

“Elan, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m not joking, Sarathae. Go awa--”

“Sarathae! Fancy seeing you here. Was there something you wanted with my mudblood?”

Sarathae freezes as Nakir saunters up behind her. She slips a hand into her robes.

“Ah ah, there’s no use of magic in the Great Hall, remember?” Nakir warns.

“This isn’t a wand,” Sarathae snarls, pressing a knife against Nakir’s throat. 

“Sara, please. Just, let me deal with this.”

Nakir stares down at Sarathae, terror filling his eyes.

“He’s threatening you. I don’t take well to people threatening my friends.” Nakir tries to back away, but Sarathae grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down to eye level with her, keeping the knife at his throat. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

"Now get away from my friend before I render you unable to go back to yours.” Sarathae smiles, sickly sweet against the knife in her hand. She shoves Nakir away, and he can’t stumble away fast enough.

Sarathae turns back to Elandorr, tucking her knife into her robes. “I’ll let you tell me what that was about when you’re ready. And you don’t have to tell me about your break; I’ll tell you about mine instead.”

Elandorr nods weakly. “Yeah. That… that’d be great.”

~~~

**train ride 7th year**

Polaris, who is flaunting his new Head Boy badge, is standing at the door of the car. He doesn’t seem to care about the badge itself. He’s talking about how he gets to be head boy with Luna Rae as head girl. 

“Great, now we get to listen to him wax poetic about his fiance and how gorgeous she is. Just kill me now; it’ll be easier,” Tyra says, draping herself over the floor.

Gyn snorts and steps over her before sitting down and opening his book.

Sarathae ignores them all in favor of sitting next to Elandorr, who is being too quiet.

“You wanna talk, be distracted, or just sit?” she asks, casting a muffling charm around the two of them.

“Distract me. Please.” He takes her hand, squeezing it. 

Sarathae nods. “Okay,” she says, and launches into a quiet explanation of her summer, including her fencing lessons, where she was finally learning how to use daggers, the constant stream of letters between her and her collection of younger students, and the drafting of new laws she would put into place if she could.

She cuts off when Elandorr’s head hits her shoulder, then her lap as he curls into a tight ball in their corner of the train car. She runs her hands through his hair, relishing in the soft curls and picking out the few knots that she finds. 

She looks up to find Tyra giving her a knowing look, and she sticks her tongue out at her.

~~~

**discussion of sorting in the library; 5th year; this scene was adapted into a scene in chapter two, but i like the ship that happens here**

“How come you weren’t sorted into Gryffindor?” Tyra asks, leaning over the back of her chair in the library.

“I was offered. I refused,” Sarathae says flatly, shutting her Potions book. Now that Tyra has become bored with her work, no one will be able to finish their own.

“I mean, not like you don’t make a great Slytherin, it’s just,” Tyra trails off, clearly unsure of how to phrase this. 

Gyn takes over for her. “You sword fight like nobody’s business--”

“Fencing,” Sarathae cuts in.

Gyn snorts. “You can be pretentious about it all you want; it’s still swordfighting.”

“I don’t see how fencing makes me a Gryffindor, Gyn. Besides, you’re a Ravenclaw; what would you know about being a Gryffindor?”

“I read,” he says defensively.

“Imagine that,” Tyra snorts. “A Ravenclaw who likes to read.”

“Fuck off, Tyr,” Gyn says, but there’s no real heat behind it.

“Make me,” Tyra smirks, and makes a kissy face at him.

Gyn raises an eyebrow and leans towards her. 

“If you two start making out in the middle of the library, I’m going to gag,” Sarathae warns.

They ignore her.

“Nope, nope, nopity nope nope nope,” Sarathae chants. She makes a fake retching sound, but that doesn’t stop them. “I’m leaving,” she announces, but even that doesn’t deter them, so she gathers up her Potions book and essay and stomps out of the alcove the three of them were in.

~~~

**from here to the end, rape is a major plot point, as well as murder, so if either of those are triggers, just skip to the notes from here. This part is much more explicit than anything else in this story.**

“No no please, I don’t want to please!” 

Sarathae stops at the pleading coming from the blocked off corridor. Elandorr had said he needed a little bit more sleep and was going to take a nap. He said he was going to be in his dorm, in his bed. Not pleading like this.

“Shut up, you filthy whore,” comes the response, and Sarathae slips out her knife and her wand.

“Muffliato,” she murmurs, feeling the spell wash over her.

“Please, stop, please!”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll take that first year mudblood you’re so keen on protecting,” Nakir snarls. 

Sarathae steps forward, walking softly despite the muffling charm. She raises her wand, pointing it at Nakir, who hasn’t noticed her yet. She steps delicately over the pile of Elandorr’s robes, and steps soundly on the pile of Nakir’s.

She considers using the body bind curse on Nakir, but decides against it. She wants to hear him plead for his life. Elandorr has noticed her, but he doesn’t say anything. Nakir is still too busy to focus on anything but his own pleasure.

“Ah, you’re a good fuck,” Nakir says. 

Sarathae puts her knife to his neck, removing her muffling charm. “Get off of my friend,” she snarls, and the bastard has the gall to whimper.

\--

“What did you tell them?” Elandorr asks, curled up in the corner of the Slytherin locker room. Quidditch is over for the year, so there’s no one there.

“You won’t be seeing Nakir again, excepting the missing persons section of the newspaper,” Sarathae replies, sitting on the bench across from Elandorr.

“What’ll Taenya think?”

“She won’t know any better. This is between us and the merfolk. I’m not even going to tell Tyra and Gyn.”

\--

“Students, I regret to inform you that one of our seventh year Slytherins has gone missing. Nakir Lokada disappeared sometime after dinner yesterday evening. If you have any knowledge as to his whereabouts, please inform your professors or myself.” Headmistress McGonagall sits down after her speech.

Gyn and Tyra share a knowing glance across their tables. 

\--

“Listen,” Tyra begins.

“We know what happened to Nakir,” Gyn continues.

“Before you panic,” Tyra adds.

“We won’t tell anyone,” Gyn finishes.

Elandorr stares at them blankly.

“What are you talking about?” Sarathae asks, straight-faced.

Tyra shrugs, making a sound that might be a condensed contraction of ‘I don’t know’ or a hiccup. 

“Did you finish your potions essay?” Gyn asks, changing the subject. It’s obvious he knows what really happened. It’s also obvious that he isn’t going to say anything about it past his obviously rehearsed lines with Tyra, who seems to be agreeing with him.

“What am I, a Ravenclaw? Of course not,” Tyra giggles. 

Elandorr frowns, and Sarathae watches him curl in on himself.

“You wanna go up to the astronomy tower?” she whispers, and he nods. “C’mon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, yeah. that's a wrap, y'all. hope you enjoyed; if you have any questions, drop them it the comments or come find me @vyther16 on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This wasn't beta read, so if you see any glaring mistakes (or minor ones), let me know respectfully in the comments.


End file.
